The Bride's Bodyguard Read online

  There, there, sprang to mind, and he clenched his teeth, refusing to mutter any such asinine mumbo jumbo. But somehow shake it off or suck it up, soldier didn’t seem appropriate, either. Comforting Damsels In Distress 101 hadn’t been part of his SEALs training. And while he was as compassionate as the next guy, expressing his feelings and dealing with other people’s softer emotions were as foreign to him as some of the locales where he’d served before a well-placed bullet left him with a career-ending knee injury.

  Paige’s fingers curled into his tux shirt, and she nestled her head in the curve of his throat, collapsing against him and indulging her crying jag. He plucked a few shards of the broken window from her hair, noticing the tiny cuts the shattered glass had caused on her neck and hands. His hands, too, for that matter.

  They were damn lucky broken glass was all that hit them. The driver hadn’t been as fortunate.

  The fragrant white flowers woven into her hair tickled his nose, and he turned his head so that his cheek rested against the top of her head. Tightening his hold on her, he savored the crush of her curves and soft skin against him. He stroked her back, her bare arms, the soft tumble of hair that escaped carefully placed bobby pins.

  When she trembled, he absorbed the tremor, feeling an answering quake reverberate at his core. Jake closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, clearing his mind, focusing on the problem at hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with Paige? Where would they go? Considering he’d been lusting after her since Scofield had introduced his bride earlier that week, how could he survive the next few days with his sanity intact?

  Adrenaline had his nerves jumping. But the press of her body against his spiked his blood pressure and had heat flashing over his skin. He’d barely had a chance to catch his breath since Trench Coat and his merry band of thugs had opened fire, and comforting Paige wasn’t helping him focus.

  As he fought down the desire that wound him tight, his thoughts jumped back to the scene at the church, and a shudder racked him. Jake had been part of a convoy in Iraq that was ambushed. The gun- and mortar fire had been deafening, the casualties high and the resulting chaos devastating to morale. But today’s attack, with so many civilian lives at stake, had shaken Jake far worse. Against such lopsided odds, Jake had felt overwhelmed…and useless. An unsettling sensation for a man trained by the navy to be among the most deadly, the most effective, the most skilled.

  When Paige’s tears subsided to sniffles, she backed from his embrace and sent him a chagrined glance. “I’m sorry. I just…it’s all so—”

  He shook his head and twitched his lips in an dismissive grin. “Forget it.” He rubbed the back of his neck and blew a deep breath from puffed cheeks. “I’ll…give you a minute to change and pull yourself together. Then we need to make tracks.”

  She nodded, and he climbed out of the backseat, scanning the surrounding area for anything suspicious, anything helpful. A moment later, she opened the back door and stepped out, wearing a pair of formfitting blue jeans and a New Orleans Saints T-shirt. Sports-team apparel had never looked so good. Paige had taken the rest of the bobby pins from her hair, and raven ringlets hung around her shoulders. Finger-combing her hair back from her face, she gave him a quick nod. “I’m ready.”

  Before they left, Jake searched the dead driver, found the man’s cell phone and dialed 911. He told the operator where to find the body, and when asked for his name, Jake set the phone on the front seat, line still open, and signaled for Paige to follow him.

  She hoisted her suitcase, which he immediately took from her, and as they started toward the road, she gave the bullet-riddled, ribbon-and-paint-decorated honeymoon getaway car one last sad look before falling in step next to him.

  For an instant, sympathy plucked at him. No one deserved to have their wedding day ruined, and Paige’s disappointment was palpable.

  Then the bigger picture reared its head, and he shook off the silly sentimental lapse.

  National security. Well-armed terrorists. His client shot and bleeding.

  What was a spoiled wedding compared to the life-and-death stakes they faced? He had no business letting emotion interfere with his duty to his job.

  Keep the bead safe at all cost.

  Jake hesitated.

  Paige has what they want.

  “Wait.” He turned back to the limo. “Get the dress. Bring it with us.”

  Paige tipped her head, her gaze querying. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cumbersome to carry? Not to mention still as conspicuous in our arms as on me.”

  He frowned. “I’m not looking forward to dragging it with us, but Brent said protect the bead. Your dress is covered in beading.” He scowled. “I don’t see how the beads on the dress could be what he wants protected, but after getting shot at because of this bead already, I’m not willing to take the chance that it’s not one of the embellishments on your gown. How about you?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I see your point.”

  He grabbed the dress and slung it over his arm, bunching up the yards of flowing satin to keep from tripping over it as they headed toward the street.

  She sent him a side glance that asked, “Now what?”

  Good question. When he’d signed on to be Scofield’s bodyguard, he’d imagined the job would be a cushy assignment, indulging an old friend’s belief that he was being followed, that he needed protection. All Brent had told him was that a business deal had gone sour, and he suspected the other party might try to hurt him. Jake hadn’t asked questions, dismissing Scofield’s concern as paranoia. His first mistake.

  And he’d never bargained for extended duty, guarding his client’s bride, a woman whose guileless green eyes and body built for sin were distractions he didn’t need if he wanted to keep them alive.

  “We’ll thumb a ride back to town,” he said, answering her unspoken question and trying not to grimace when pain from his knee shot fiery bolts through his leg. “From there, we’ll rent a car to get…wherever.”

  “Look, I…I have two tickets to Jamaica in my purse. The plane leaves in three hours. Why don’t we use the tickets to get out of the country and—”

  “No.” Jake imagined Paige in a bikini on a white-sand beach with a fruity island drink in her hand, and another blast of heat slammed him in the gut. “Do you think those thugs don’t know where you were headed on your honeymoon?”

  She raised her chin, blinked, then frowned her consternation. “But that’s—”

  “I guarantee they also know where you live, what you drive, where you eat lunch with your girlfriends, where you buy your four-dollar coffee and what route you use to get to the office.”

  Her troubled look grew stormier, an edge of panic creeping into her gaze. Slowing her pace, Paige pressed a hand to her chest and wheezed, her breathing shallow.

  “Hey, don’t do that. You’ll hyperventilate.” Jake seized her arms and drilled her with a hard look. “I need you to keep it together for me, all right?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. Sucking in a few deep breaths, she flexed and balled her hands at her sides, and when she met his gaze again, she seemed in better control.

  “I won’t… I’m not going to fall apart on you. I promise. This is just all so overwhelming, so out of the blue. I don’t understand any of it, and—” She cut herself off with another deep inhalation. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  The rumble of a car engine called his attention to the road, where a late-model sedan rolled past. He stepped toward the traffic lane and waved the car down.

  “Are you sure hitching’s the best idea? How do we know we can trust them?” she asked.

  Jake nodded toward the elderly occupants of the car. “Look at them. What’s not to trust? Besides, if grandma and grandpa do give us trouble, I can take them both down before they know what hit ’em.”

  The elderly driver slowed to a stop and rolled down his window. “You kids all right?”

  “We could use a ride into town. We had a bit of car trou
ble a little ways back.” He hitched his thumb down the road, and when the older man’s gaze drifted to the wedding dress, the blood on Jake’s shirt and the tear tracks on Paige’s cheeks, Jake added, “Our honeymoon’s not off to a very good start. I got a nosebleed and ruined my shirt, then the car broke down.” He glanced at Paige, sending her a silent signal with his eyes, asking for her cooperation. “And my wife is convinced we’re going to miss our flight to Jamaica.”

  The older man turned to Paige. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’ll take you back to town, and if you call the airline, I bet they could reschedule you for a later flight.”

  Paige forced a smile. “I hope so. Everything else has gone wrong today. I’d hate to think we’ll miss our plane.”

  Jake opened the back door for Paige, and she climbed into the car. Once they were settled in the sedan, Paige and Jake listened to the older couple regale them with stories of the mishaps from their wedding fifty-two years ago and many of the disagreements since.

  As they approached town, their elderly driver turned from the main road onto a side street that led into a residential area.

  “Henry, where are you going? This isn’t the right way!” the woman fussed.

  “It’s a shortcut.”

  Henry’s wife harrumphed. “Shortcut, my fanny. Shortcut is your term for lost. Turn around and go back to the highway.”

  Paige sent Jake a worried side glance, and he lifted a corner of his mouth in amusement before returning his attention to the middle-class houses they passed.

  “I’m not lost. Stop worrying,” Henry returned.

  “That’s what you always say. I’m telling you—”

  “Wait a minute,” Jake interrupted, spotting a for-sale sign in one of the front yards. “Stop here.”

  Henry stomped the brakes, and the sedan stopped with a lurch. “Something wrong?”

  Paige gave Jake a curious look.

  “I just remembered that a friend of mine lives on this street.” He opened the car door and tugged on Paige’s hand. “We’ll go to his house, use his phone to call the airline, arrange for a tow truck and so forth.” He tugged harder on his “bride’s” hand, encouraging her compliance. “We appreciate the ride, folks.”

  “I can—” their driver started, then fumbled, as Jake hauled Paige’s suitcase from the backseat. “Well, all right. Good luck, kids.”

  Jake gave the couple a friendly wave as they drove away, then faced Paige’s confused scowl. “You don’t have a friend in this neighborhood at all. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did we get out?”

  “Because I found a place for us to lay low until we can regroup and plan our next move.” Jake lifted her suitcase and headed across the street to the small Acadian-style house with the Realtor’s sign in the front yard.

  Paige grabbed his arm. “Hang on a minute. Where are—?” Her gaze darted to the for-sale sign then back to him. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. “Whoa! You are not thinking about breaking into this house, are you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. There are newspapers in the driveway, the grass hasn’t been mowed. It’s obvious the house is vacant.”

  He jogged to the backyard, and Paige stumbled to keep up. “I don’t care if it’s vacant! It’s still breaking and entering. I won’t do it!”

  Pulling a small army knife from his pocket, Jake got to work jimmying the lock on the back door. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be picky about your accommodations, princess.”

  She grabbed his wrist as he worked, and he met her fiery glare. “Who died and made you boss of me?”

  His jaw clenched. “Scofield.”

  Paige drew back with a gasp as if slapped. The wounded look in her eyes burrowed to his marrow.

  “I’m sorry.” He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “That was uncalled for.” Jake squeezed her shoulder and drilled her with a stare that brooked no resistance. “I don’t like the idea of breaking the law any more than you do, but this house is the safest cover we have right now. We’re not here to rob it or deface it. In fact, we’ll leave it better than we found it. We’ll clean up the yard before we go, so it doesn’t scream ‘vacant’ anymore.”

  With a last wiggle of his blade, the lock popped, and the door swung open. “After you.”

  Paige hesitated, glaring at him with righteous indignation. “This isn’t right. We could go to a hotel.”

  Jake struggled to keep his cool. “Nothing about this situation is right. But we can’t fix anything if we’re dead and, for now, this house is our best chance to stay alive. By now, those thugs have every hotel within a hundred miles under surveillance or on their radar in some way. I’m not willing to risk being spotted at a hotel.” He planted a hand at the small of her back and nudged her inside. “Now get in before the neighbors see us and call the cops.”

  Pressing her lips in a tight line of discontent, Paige stamped into the house. When she reached for the light switch, he caught her hand.

  “A vacant house wouldn’t have lights on. We can’t give any indication we’re here.”

  Beneath his fingers, her pulse fluttered at her wrist. Her gaze clashed with his, and he felt an answering kick of adrenaline in his veins. The anger sparking in her eyes and flushing her cheeks made her even more beautiful. He suppressed the urge to plow his fingers through the thick tresses of raven hair swirling around her shoulders.

  “So we’re just supposed to sit here in the dark?” She turned her attention to the empty room, then back to him. “There isn’t even any furniture.”

  “Sorry, princess. Five-star accommodations aren’t always possible when you’re on the run.”

  “Stop calling me princess like that,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He arched an eyebrow, more amused by her temper than put off by it. “Like what?”

  “Like you think I’m some pampered diva.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She growled and snatched her wrist from his grip. “Can I at least use my cell phone to call my family and make sure they’re safe? Let them know I’m all right?”

  Jake rolled the tension from his shoulders, knowing how his answer wouldn’t be received. “No. Cell phones can be tracked. In fact…give me your phone. We have to get rid of it.”

  Paige sputtered, her eyes wide. “Get rid— But all my contacts are on—”

  He seized her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Listen to me, and listen good. You saw what those men were capable of. This is no game. I can keep you alive and help you figure out what is going on, what you have that they want, but you have to trust me. You have to do what I tell you without question. All right?”

  She opened her mouth, but immediately snapped it shut again. Fear and defeat crossed her face, and her muscles slackened beneath his hands. When she nodded her understanding, instead of feeling he’d won her cooperation, he felt a sense of loss.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  She pointed to the floral suitcase. “In my purse. I packed it for safekeeping during the ceremony and reception.”

  He lay the suitcase flat on the floor and opened it. He handed her the handbag that had been tucked in one corner, and Paige fished her cell phone out. With an irritated huff, she handed the phone to him. He tucked the phone in his pocket and strode to the empty living room. After glancing out the front window, he lowered the blinds. “I’m going back out to get us a few things for tonight. Clothes for me. Food. Cash for later. I’ll pick up a prepaid phone while I’m out, and you can use it to call your family. Okay?”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be seen?”

  He scoffed. “Give me some credit. I’m a SEAL. I know how to avoid being spotted.”

  Paige wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her bare elbows, despite the stuffy heat inside the house. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Stay out of sight. And try to think what you have, what Scofield might have given you or hi
dden in your suitcase that terrorists would want. Make a list of everything he’s given you in the last few months. We have to figure out what the hell this bead is.”

  Paige stared at him, looking dazed, overwhelmed.

  He crossed the room to her and cradled her chin in his palm. “Hey. You all right?”

  “Guess I have to be. Don’t have much choice.” Ducking her head, she muttered, “As usual.”

  Jake frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind. You go do what you have to.”

  He lingered another moment, debating whether he should press the issue, deciding whether he should insist she go with him. In the end, he decided he could move faster and more discreetly without her in tow. She’d be safer here, stashed in the vacant house until he got back. But, just in case, he pulled his pistol out from under his shirt at the small of his back and wrapped her hand around it. “Keep this with you. Only put your finger on the trigger if you intend to fire.”

  The color drained from her face. “I can’t… I’ve never—”

  “Just aim, two hands, and squeeze the trigger.” He tweaked her chin and lifted a corner of his mouth in a grin intended to calm her. “Just be sure before you fire that it’s not me coming back from my supply run. Got it?”

  She gaped at the pistol as if it were a venomous snake and hurriedly set it on the kitchen counter.

  He headed out the back door they’d come in through, brushing aside the small curtain on a side window to look out first and check for neighbors who might see him leaving.

  “Jake?” she called, stopping him.

  He faced her. “Yeah?”

  She hesitated, her expression puzzled and her gaze fixed on the ring on her left hand. “Never mind. It will keep.”

  “What is it, Paige? Tell me.”

  She sighed. “Well, I was just wondering… Am I married…or not?”

  Chapter 3

  Paige thumbed the elaborate ring Brent had insisted she have, and nausea swirled in her belly. “I mean, we said our vows, but I never finished giving Brent his ring, and the minister never declared us man and wife.”